Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh
by Sheytune
Summary: Three one-shots. A secret santa gift for razztaztic.
1. Gold

**Note: **This is a Bones Fanfic Secret Santa gift for razztaztic_. _First of all, you should all know that I've lost my mind. Razztaztic gave me three prompts, and I couldn't decide. I stared one, and then another one, and then I went back to the first one and totally re-did it.

Long story short, this is the first of three one-shots. I'm pretty sure this is not even close to what she expected.

**Prompt: **Booth/Brennan/Max: Christmas shopping or winter vacation or snow skiing

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them.

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I love Christmas. I always have. The lights, the carols, the anticipation in the air …. I look forward to it all year.

The second Saturday in December is always marked off on my calendar. It's been that way since … well, I'm not even sure how long it's been. That's my day to do my shopping. When the kids were small, Charlie would stay with them while I had the day to myself. When they were old enough to stay home alone, Charlie would join me. He didn't love Christmas like I do – I liked to call him my grinch – but we'd still have a fun day together.

He's been gone eleven years and I still miss him. I always will.

When I retired three years ago, one of my friends remarked how much nicer it would be to go shopping on a weekday to miss the crowds.

She doesn't get it. Sure, I could get my shopping done more quickly on a Tuesday afternoon, but what's the fun in that? I want the hustle, the crowds, the joy – not just the excuse to check something off of a never-ending to-do list.

That's why I got up bright and early this morning. I went over my shopping list as I finished my coffee, and my first stop was Macy's toy department. The oldest grandchild is almost 20, but the youngest is only 2. It's my duty as a grandma to spoil them a little – and for the little ones, that means toys.

The toy department was busy. Two young boys were admiring some kind of mechanical toy, wondering aloud whether Santa would bring it for them. A little girl was hugging a stuffed toy tight to her chest, even as her father explained that she needed to put it back. A toddler – she must have been all of two – was struggling to reach some colourful blocks from her perch in the front of a shopping cart.

I watched for a couple of minutes, and then moved on to the board games – our family always likes board games at Christmas. I was trying to decide which games to choose when they walked past the end of the aisle.

She didn't seem to happy to be there, and I heard her say, "I'm not even sure why we're here, Booth. The Jeffersonian has an extensive gift shop. I can pick up something for Parker at lunch next week."

He stopped dead in his tracks. "No way, Bones. We're not getting Parker nothing but science-y gifts for Christmas."

She whirled around, her hands on her hips. "What's wrong with scientific gifts?"

He held his hands up as if trying to pacify her. "Nothing, Temperance. But I just want something Parker and I can do together, you know?"

She nodded slowly, as if trying to understand his point. "It's common for adolescents to develop their own interests, often in opposition to their parents' wishes. It's a way of asserting their independence. But I understand that you value your time with Parker, and you want to strengthen that bond through shared experiences."

He looked a little dazed at her sentence, but he grinned, throwing his arm around her shoulder. "Exactly. And that's why we should check out the Legos. They have this one set that he'd love."

"Fine", she acquiesced. "But I'm getting him a microscope for his birthday."

"Right", he replied as they started walking again. They must have turned down the next aisle, because I heard him say. "Hey, how about that for Christine?"

"We're not getting Christine a _doll_." Her voice could have stripped the paint off the walls. "I want Christine to be open to all experiences, not just those deemed suitable due to her gender"

I shifted a little, until I could catch a glimpse of them standing toe to toe in the next aisle. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her. "We could get her a truck, too."

She swatted his arm and laughed, and they continued walking, obviously on their way to the Legos.

My Charlie could always make me laugh like that, no matter how annoyed I was with him. I miss that, too.

With the bickering couple gone, I turned my attention to the games in front of me. I picked a couple of games, a remote control car for little Cheyanne, and a puzzle with giant pieces for her little brother. I moved on to the clothes section and picked out Christmas socks for everyone – another family tradition.

A couple of hours later, I was lucky enough to snag a table in the food court for lunch and a well-deserved rest. To my surprise, the couple from the toy department were already seated at a nearby table. A spare chair was piled with bags – from the logos, I'd say they'd bought out the mall's selection of toys, clothes, and books.

I shamelessly watched them as I ate my lunch. I wasn't close enough to overhear all of their conversation, but occasionally I'd hear a snippet - "out of my price range" and "Russ & Amy" and "Hank says he doesn't need anything".

They were clearly a couple and, based on what I'd heard, they had kids, although I couldn't help but notice that neither of them wore a wedding ring. Not that I'm one to judge – my oldest was born four months after Charlie & I were married. Sometimes it takes time to see what you have.

I worked my way through my fries – a guilty pleasure – and wondered who they were. Was their discussion about the appropriate time to put up the Christmas tree – getting louder by the minute – a discussion they'd had many times before, or was this a new relationship, one in which they were still working on melding their lives together?

Their familiarity with each other made it seem like they'd been together for years, but their conversation didn't sound like people going through the motions of the same old argument.

They reached some sort of compromise, and when he smiled at her, the look on his face took my breath away.

My Charlie used to smile at me like that.

"Is this seat taken?"

The question snapped my attention back to my immediate surroundings. The gentleman who had asked the question was about my age – light hair, a friendly smile.

"No", I answered, smiling. "Please, feel free."

He set his tray on the table and sat down, his head following my gaze to the young couple. "Do you know them?"

I took one last look at them and turned to my new companion. "No", I replied, "But he reminds me a little of my late husband."

He picked up his sandwich. "It's amazing, isn't it? How you can see someone and suddenly it's like the person you lost is right there with you?" He swiveled his head and took another look at the couple. "Even though my Christine has been gone for years, when I look at that young lady, it's like she's here."

I beamed at him. "It's so nice to meet someone who understands. I'm Edith, by the way."

His smiled back at me and held out his hand. "Max. Nice to meet you."

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Pretty sure no one expected that. But feel free to drop me a review & tell me I've lost my mind, anyway.


	2. Frankincense

**Note: **Thanks for all of the reviews! Time for the second prompt.

**Prompt: **Brennan, Booth, Christine: Trouble at daycare or Christine at the FBI or Christine at Hoover.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them.

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"Daddy?"

Booth turned his attention away from his computer and peered at the pig-tailed four year old lying on the floor, kicking her feet in the air.

"Yes, Christine?"

"I'm tired of coloring."

"We'll go home soon, honey." He picked up the stack of children's books Charlie had thoughtfully grabbed from a waiting room and handed them to his daughter. "Here, maybe you can read for a while."

Christine sighed, sounding as if she had the most difficult life she could imagine, while Booth turned back to his case file.

Thirty seconds later, she spoke again. "Daddy?"

This time, the reply was less patient. "Yes?"

"These are baby books. I'm not a baby."

"You can read the books or you can color, Christine. We'll go home as soon as I finish my work."

The young girl flopped into a sitting position and loudly turned the first page. A second later, she scoffed. "This elephant is blue. Elephants aren't _blue_."

It wasn't a remark that required a reply, so Booth deliberately kept his focus on his paperwork while his daughter muttered.

With his daughter somewhat entertained, Booth was able to make some progress. He had made it about halfway through the report he was writing before Christine exhausted the stack of books. She closed the last book and moved to stand patiently by his side until he turned to look at her.

"Daddy?"

"Yes", he said, for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, "What is it?"

"Is Parker at home?"

"No", Booth answered, "Parker is at hockey practice."

"Olivia at preschool says hockey is for boys, but I told her we don't believe in encouraging gender disparity."

He laughed despite himself. "Do you even know what that means?"

Her hands went to her hips and for a second he saw a glimpse of the woman she would one day be. "It means girls can play hockey, too."

Booth looked at the clock, then at the paperwork remaining on his desk, and stood, taking her hand. "We've talked about this before, Christine. This year, you're taking skating lessons. Next year you can play hockey." They walked down the hall to the vending machines, the young girl chattering all the while. He fished some coins out of his pocket and lifted her up so that she could feed them into the machine. She carefully pressed "A2" and a bag of pretzels tumbled to the bottom of the machine. A moment later, he pulled a bottle of orange juice out of the beverage machine and the two of them walked back to his office.

He opened the orange juice and pretzels as Christine dragged an extra chair over to the desk. She climbed up on it and knelt so that she could reach her snack. She ate quietly, watching with interest as he worked.

It didn't take long before she started talking again. "Daddy? Guess what."

"What?", he answered distractedly.

She remained quiet, waiting until he stopped typing and turned to look at her. "At Mommy's work, Uncle Jack has _beetles_. And Auntie Angela has face paints. They're really cool."

"I know, honey, but we don't have beetles or face paints here."

Dejected, she flopped down in the chair. "When will Mommy be home?"

"Two more sleeps, Christine."

As if on command, his cell phone rang. He hit the speaker phone button and said, "Hi, Bones." Across the desk, Christine straightened up and chirped, "Hi, Mommy!"

"Well, hello Christine." Brennan's voice filled with warmth at the sound of their daughter's voice. "Are you having fun with Daddy?"

Christine stood on the chair and leaned across the desk until she could snag the cell phone, dragging it so that it sat in front of her. "There are no beetles or face paints here. Just lots of people looking at computers."

Brennan chuckled. "I know, Christine. I hope you're being good."

"Yup", Christine answered. "Mommy, can I go back to daycare tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure", Brennan answered, "Remember how daycare was closed because a pipe broke? I'm not sure if they'll have it fixed by tomorrow."

"Daddy can fix it", Christine answered confidently. "I can help."

"That's very generous of you, Christine", her mother said, "But I'm confident that the Jeffersonian has hired some plumbers to fix the pipe."

"Well, tell them to hurry up", her daughter answered. "I miss Jenna and Michael and Megan. And baby Katherine, too. She's so cute."

"I'll tell them", Brennan promised solemnly. "I love you, Christine. Can I talk to your dad now?"

"OK." Christine slid the phone across the desk. In her enthusiasm, she overshot and the phone clattered to the phone. She scrambled off the chair and ran around the desk to pick it up. "I'm sorry, Mommy, I dropped you."

"I'm sure you didn't mean to. Just give me to Daddy, OK?"

Booth hit the button to take the phone off speaker phone and said, "Hey, Bones."

"Hi, Booth", she answered, "How are things going?"

"We're OK", he answered, "She colored for a while, and read some books, and we just finished a snack. I should be done soon and then we'll go home."

"I'm sorry, Booth", she replied, "I know this is an inconvenient time for me to be on my book tour."

"It's fine, Bones", he answered. "Just … hurry home. We miss you."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "I miss you too, Booth. I find I'm very much looking forward to coming home on Saturday."

On the floor, Christine was coloring a picture of a goalie, carefully outlining the net in a bright purple. "I'm looking forward to that, too, Bones. Can't wait."

"I have to go - my publisher is making extremely odd faces at me. I'll call you tonight. I love you."

"I love you too, Bones." The line went dead and he turned his attention back to his work.

He was down to the last case he needed to include in the report when there was a knock on his door. Charlie poked his head in and said, "I was just going down to the cafeteria – does anyone want to go for a walk?"

Christine looked up then hesitated, looking at Booth enquiringly. "You remember Charlie, Christine. Daddy's worked with him since before you were born. You can go for a walk with him if you want to."

The young girl scrambled to her feet. "Me, please. I want to go for a walk." Christine took Charlie's hand and they left Booth to his work.

Without his favorite distraction, Booth made short work of the rest of the report. By the time Christine returned, a suspicious chocolate milk smear around her lips, he had packed up and was ready to go.

As his daughter chattered happily about her new friend, he helped her pull on her jacket and zipped it up. They stepped into the elevator and she stood on her toes to press the button for the parking garage. Soon Christine was securely buckled in her car seat and they were on their way home.

By the time dinner was over, Christine was looking drowsy. Her bath woke her again, and, although she would have happily listened to stories all night, Booth drew the line at three. He listened to her prayers and kissed her goodnight, then made his way down the stairs to collapse on the couch.

As he reached for the remote, his phone rang.

"Booth?" She sounded distracted.

"Hey, Bones."

"Bad news." She gave a fleeting thought to cushioning the blow, but decided to jump right in. "Daycare is closed again tomorrow."

He didn't manage to stifle his groan, and she continued, "Dad's working again, but Angela says she's going to take the day off. She has agreed to watch Christine as well as her kids. Can you drop her off on the way to work?

"Yeah", he answered. "Thanks, Bones. There's only so much coloring she can do in a day."

"I'm sorry I can't be there", she replied.

"It's OK. Your book tour is important."

"Yes", she agreed, "but your job is important, too, and you already took yesterday off."

"Next time, you can take the time off", he said, enjoying the thought of the chaos that would result from Brennan taking days off of work to look after a healthy, energetic child who wanted nothing more than to see her friends.

"That would be fair", she answered doubtfully.

"50-50, that's the deal", he answered, rubbing it in just a little, "And since I got it this time ..."

"Right", she replied. "Next time, I'll stay with her. Have a good day tomorrow, and I'll see you on Saturday."

"Can't wait", he answered.

"Me either", she agreed. "And I'm sure daycare will be open again on Monday."

"Doesn't matter to me", Booth answered. "After all, next week is your turn."

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I'd love to hear what you think of this one. One more to go.


	3. Myrrh

**Note: **And the final one-shot.

**Prompt:** Angela, Brennan, Caroline: Girl talk or brunch or pregnancy scare

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them.

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Look, I love Bren. We've been friends for years – the longest friendship of my life – and it's not an exaggeration to say she changed my life.

Before I met her, I'd never held a job for longer than a couple of months. She asked me to work with her at the Jeffersonian – drawing the faces of murder victims, of all things – and somehow I stuck it out for years. If it hadn't been for her, I would have cut and run long ago.

If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have taken a chance on Hodgins. I wouldn't have my husband, my son, or my daughter.

I owe her a lot.

It goes both ways. Who knows if she'd ever have gotten together with Booth if it weren't for me? After only seven or eight years of me pointing out how great they are together, there they are, sharing a home with their beautiful daughter.

She's happy, too – happier than I've ever seen her. Having someone who loves her, someone to love, grounds her and gives her a launching point from which she somehow manages to do more than ever before.

She wasn't exactly a couch potato before she met Booth, but now she's a best-selling author, the tops in the world in forensic anthropology, and a guest lecturer who flies around the country for prestigious speaking engagements. I'm pretty sure she let some of the hunting licenses lapse, but she still goes to at least two martial arts classes a week, and she and Booth spent a week diving in the Caribbean last March.

She's gone from someone who lived out of a suitcase to someone with a home, and that makes all of the difference. She's opened up to new experiences – a committed relationship, sharing a home, having a child – without losing who she is. It's the epitome of what love should be, you know?

But as much as I love Bren, she has her faults. She doesn't understand normal social interactions, she's condescending with people she considers beneath her (which is _everyone_), and she expects anyone she comes into contact with to live up to her impossible standards. That last one is why Christine has had seven nannies in two short years. Hell, Brennan has fired _Max_ at least six times.

The fault that's most relevant today, though, is that she _always_ leaves work late. That's why I'm sitting alone in the diner, watching the world go by, while she's at the lab, examining one last set of remains or giving one of her interns one more set of instructions.

Ten minutes ago, I didn't care that she was late. Katherine was sleeping contentedly in her car seat, and it was just such a relief to be out in the world of adults again. I love my daughter, but she's still an infant, and although she's adorable and way more cuddly than Michael was at that age, she's not much fun yet. I'm at our usual table – front and center, with a view of both the door and the street – and I spent the time entertaining myself with people watching, inventing stories to explain why that teenage boy walks with a limp or how the business woman got the run in her stocking.

I didn't order when the waitress came by earlier – I told her I was happy to wait – but now I'm wondering whether if I'll starve before Bren gets here. Hey, I'm breastfeeding. I need my food.

Before I can snag the waitress to tell her I've changed my mind, Brennan arrives, rushing through the door and stumbling over apologies. The waitress bustles over, we order, and my day is back on track.

Katherine wakes up, and I pull her onto my lap. Brennan coos over her as usual, and Katherine waves her tiny arms around and shrieks in laughter.

Maybe she likes having people around as much as I do.

Our food arrive and we eat, the conversation continuing as we dig into our food. Since Katherine was born, the only time we've had together was when Hodgins, Booth, and the kids were around. I love my family, but I've missed these one-on-one conversations.

It isn't until our food is gone and we're lingering over coffee that I realize that Brennan isn't really listening.

That's weird. Brennan _always_ listens. It's one of the best things about her. When she focuses her attention on you, it's _all_ on you, and she doesn't miss a thing. Well, at least not anything that she considers important.

The more I watch, though, the more sure I am that she's not listening now. She's smiling and nodding at all the right places, but she's not _there_ like she normally is.

It might be the baby that's distracting her – she keeps looking at Katherine with an expression that looks both enthralled and vaguely nauseous – but I've seen her have an intense conversation while knee deep – literally – in human remains, so I can't imagine one infant would throw her off.

There's something going on with her, though, so eventually I just blurt it out. "Bren? What's going on?"

She looks startled, as if she didn't expect that I'd see through her facade, and for a second I catch a glimpse of something that looks a lot like fear. Almost immediately, I can see her trying to hide whatever she's feeling. She tries to laugh off the question but let's face it – she's never been much of an actor. Well, not unless she's undercover with Booth, playing a devoted, happy couple.

Something tells me she needs to talk about whatever it is, so I put on my stern, tell-Angela-what's-going-on-in-that-genius-head-of-yours face, and say, "You might as well tell me."

Her eyes shoot to Katherine again, and she asks, "What's it like? Having two children who require constant attention and care?"

My first thought is that she's avoiding the subject that's bothering her, so my reply is a little more abrupt, my tone more brusque than it might have been otherwise. "I love my kids, Bren."

She looks like I punched her, and she immediately apologizes. "I know, Ange, but … don't you ever worry that you're going to disappear, and all that will be left is someone's mom?"

_What?_ I lean back in my chair, holding the baby close, and stare at her. "It sounds like you're afraid you're losing yourself, Bren."

Her gaze drops to her coffee cup, and she idly picks up her teaspoon and devotes her attention to stirring a packet of sugar into the coffee. "I hate psychology."

I reach across the table and put my hand on hers. "Is it Booth?" I sound sympathetic, even though I'm plotting ways to make a certain FBI agent disappear if he's the one putting that scared, lost look on her face.

Her head jerks up. "No!"

I wait quietly, hoping she'll start talking just to fill the silence. I'm just about to cave, when she blurts out, "My period is late. Eight days."

"Oh!" My hand flies to my mouth, and I rest the baby on the table in front of me so that I can lean across the table. "I didn't know you were trying."

Her mouth twists in a wry smile. "We weren't."

I'm thrilled, of course, but then I've always liked kids, and there's nothing I'd like more than Bren having another child. It's not up to me, though, and I ask, "Are you sure? How does Booth feel about it?"

She shakes her head. "I just realized this morning. I don't know for sure. And I haven't told him."

"Are you afraid he'll be upset?", I ask, mentally revisiting my FBI agent disposal plan.

"He'll be thrilled", she says confidently, "I'm just not sure I am."

"You will be", I reply, knowing it's true. Bren is the kind of person who's scared to leap, but once she does, she fully commits. I lean over the table and hand her my daughter. "Here, let me remind me what you have to look forward to."

She hesitates for a second, but then my daughter is wrapped in her arms and she's doing that "dancing phalanges" routine that's both weird and sweet.

I pick up my coffee and take a sip as Brennan loses herself in her game. I see the look on her face, and I know that she'll find a way to make it work, even if she's not ready to admit it to herself quite yet.

"Well isn't this a tender scene." I must have really been focused on Bren and Katherine, because I totally missed Caroline walking into the diner – and believe me, Caroline knows how to make an entrance. She gestures, and I move over one seat so that she can join us.

"So this is the new arrival? What's her name again?"

"Katherine", I answer.

"Hmmph!" is the reply. "That's not a bad name. Nothing wrong with Caroline for a girl, either."

Nothing subtle about Caroline, either. "Maybe next time."

The waitress hurries over with a cup of coffee. Caroline takes a sip, then directs her attention to Bren. "You and Booth'd better get a move on, or the bug guy and Angela will be on their third before you have your second."

Brennan doesn't answer, just tucks the baby in closer and asks, "Is there something you need, Caroline?"

Caroline stares at her. I've been a recipient of one of those stares before, and it's not an experience I'm eager to repeat. "Of course there's something I need. You think I have time to be hanging out at the diner in the middle of the day?" She slides a case file across the table. "You missed a signature."

Bren signs and slides the file back. Caroline sets down her now-empty coffee cup and stands, case file tucked securely under her arm. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan. Angela." She nods to me, then looks at Bren one last time. "Remember what I said. Nothing wrong with Caroline." She weaves her way through the crowded diner to the door, and she's gone.

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****And that's it.I'd love to hear what you think.


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